West Coast
by WatsWitDaMonkey
Summary: I wanted to do a depressingly happy after-Reichbach fic. I was listening to my Pandora (lovely thing. I'm not getting paid) and West Coast came on and I said, "That's a Johnlock song." And so this came. :) It probably doesn't do justice to either the song or to the pairing but whatever. Go listen to the song first though. 'Coz this song was fucking written for John post-Reichbach.


West Coast Johnlock Songfic

I wanted to do a depressingly happy after-Reichbach fic. I was listening to my Pandora (lovely thing. I'm not getting paid) and West Coast came on and I said, "That's a Johnlock song." And so this came. :) It probably doesn't do justice to either the song or to the pairing but whatever. Go listen to the song first though.  
Coz this song was fucking written for John and his post-Reichbach feels.

-  
For a second there I thought you disappeared  
It rains a lot this time of year  
And we both go together if one falls down  
I talk out loud like you're still around  
No noo  
And I miss you

The flat was so empty now. There were no more heads in the fridge or chemicals on the kitchen table. Sherlock's spirit had left the building and everyone could see what it did to John.  
Sometimes Miss Hudson would hear a noise coming from 221B and listen at the door. It would bring tears to her eyes when she heard John talking to himself as if he was talking to Sherlock. Then the talking would suddenly stop and there would be the sound of a mug shattering. Miss Hudson could imagine the scene inside the flat: John in the other room, starting to ask if Sherlock wanted tea then turning the corner and seeing he wasn't there.  
John slunk into the recliner emotionlessly, feeling nothing and everything at the same time. When Sherlock fell off the roof and died, John went with him in spirit. They were like a puzzle that consisted of two pieces and now that one was gone, John was no longer complete.

-  
I'm goin back home to the west coast  
I wish you woulda put yourself in my suitcase  
I love you  
Standin all alone in a black coat  
I miss you

It was a slow realization, a dream here, a stray thought there, that led to John figuring out just exactly how much he cared for Sherlock. He would think to himself sometimes about Sherlock's long black coat and smile, remembering that he never wore the blue suit you were supposed to at crime scenes. He looked over to the coat rack where it still hung and moved to touch the fabric, imagining that Sherlock was still underneath.  
Or there would be dreams that he would wake from in a cold sweat. Dreams that seemed so real that John would break into dry sobs. Dreams that Sherlock would climb into his bed at night and whisper sweet nothings into his ear and then would end with the fall, that memory replaying in his head like a terrible pop song.  
The only thing John regretted was never telling Sherlock that he loved him.

-  
I'm goin back home to the west coast  
And if you shake her heart enough she will appear  
Tonight i think i'll be stayin here  
And you never did like this town  
I talk out loud like you're still around  
No nooo  
And i miss you  
I'm goin back home to the west coast  
I wish you woulda put yourself in my suitcase  
I love you  
Standin all alone in a black coat  
I miss you  
I'm goin back home to the west coast  
Come on everybody

On the one year anniversary of Sherlock's death, John visited the grave of his best friend and love. Some others went with him, Lestrade, Molly, and Mycroft. (Donovan and Anderson had stayed clear of John because they both knew full well that he would love to kill them for causing the younger Holmes's death.) The four stood over his grave in silence. The closest people to Sherlock all together mourned the loss of the great man.  
John wasn't over it. But he wasn't loosing himself as he had for about two months there. Sherlock would have called him boring and predictable. So he snapped out of it, but still allotted himself fond memories and sadness. He still dreamt and woke up sobbing but it had become more of a twice-a-month thing.  
"I wish he were here," Molly whispered.  
No one responded to her obvious statement.  
Lestrade and Molly went back home when it got dark but John stayed, shivering yet not feeling the cold. Mycroft left when he felt he wasn't welcome by John anymore. John stayed till it was too dark to see clearly and even then he stayed longer.

He stayed hidden in the tree line as he watched John sit down on the grass covering his grave. He saw John whisper something but it was lost to Sherlock's ears.

"I miss you," they said simultaneously without knowing it.

-  
So pack up the bags to beat back the clock  
Do i let her sleep or should i wake her up  
You said  
We both go together if one falls down  
Yeah right, heh  
I talk out loud like you're still around  
No noo  
And i miss you  
I m goin back home to the west coast  
I wish you woulda put yourself in my suitcase  
I love you  
Standin all alone in a black coat  
I miss you

John dreamt again. It was different and odd this time though. In the dream, Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bed, just sitting and looked at John.  
"I'm afraid I've awoken you," he said. Which was the first time that Sherlock had spoken in a dream.  
"S'no problem," said John.  
"I miss you, John," said Sherlock sadly.  
John smiled, "I miss you too, Sherly."  
Sherlock smiled fondly, "I wish you could've come with me."  
"Where did you go?" John asked sleepily.  
"Away," he said, "I'll be back soon though," Sherlock answered and held onto John's hand.  
"Good!" John replied, "it's been dreadful without you."  
"I know." He stood up and walked to the other side of the room, "I just came to get something. I really need this, John," he held up John's black and white striped sweater, "it's getting cold outside. And this reminds me of you." He rubbed the jumper against his face and hugged it tightly.  
"Don't I remind you of me?" John asked with a laugh.  
Sherlock laughed too, "Yes, John. But I need something for on the road. I can't take you with me. I wouldn't wish this upon you though. I am afraid I won't be able to come to your dreams a lot more, John. I have to do something."  
John pouted, "Can't you at least tell me? I'm not that big; I'd fit in a suit case if you squeezed me in.."  
At John's pout, Sherlock laid the jumper on the bed and reached for John's hand, "Come here Johnny." Their hands met and Sherlock walked him to his window and told him to look out, "I'm just out there. And when you need to remember me look at the moon and know I'm looking at the same moon." Sherlock watched John watch the moon and gripped both of his hands tightly.  
John slowly started nodding, "Yes. Yes, okay." He turned to Sherlock, "I wish I could come. You know you took me with you when you fell."  
Sherlock gave a hint of a smile, "Make up your mind. Did I take you or didn't I?"  
John blushed and looked down, "No. You didn't." Sherlock put his hands on John's shoulders and looked at him before pulling him into his own thin frame and hugging him deeply and for possibly the last time.  
John heard a whisper, what was the whisper? What did he say? John didn't care anymore, he whispered back, "I love you."  
Sherlock heard a whisper. A very faint confession, affirming, answering and agreeing with what Sherlock had just whispered. Sherlock had whispered, "I love you, John."  
In the dream suddenly Sherlock was gone as dream figures often go. John looked around the room and sat down by his window and looked out at the moon. It was the same moon.

John woke up by his window not knowing how he got there and for the love of him he couldn't find his favorite striped jumper.


End file.
